


Just in Case

by PrettyOkayGatsby



Series: Uncle Patrick is Superman [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Implied Attempted Suicide, M/M, Patrick Stump is good, Pre-Slash, angsty, hints of self harm, slight child neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyOkayGatsby/pseuds/PrettyOkayGatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Also know as Where Patrick Stump Can Fix Everything With the Power of His Hugs. And Yelling. But That's Just at Pete.)</p><p>Daddy's been acting weird ever since Mommy left and Bronx isn't too sure what to do. </p><p>So he calls his Uncle Patrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just in Case

Bronx sighed as Carmen ( _Tia Carmen, if you want, Mowgli!)_ glanced over at him reading on the couch and whispered, as if it were a dirty word, “so about the d-i-v-o-r-c-e-” as if Bronx couldn’t spell better than everyone in his class.

Mommy winced and changed the topic.

D-I-V-O-R-C-E.

DIVORCE.

It was an ugly word, but not so terrible it couldn’t be said. DIVORCE meant no more Mommy and Daddy. It also meant no more late-night arguing, two houses, two christmases and perhaps most importantly, Uncle Patrick would start coming over to Daddy’s house again, like before things got bad and shouty.

Bronx knew some people blamed Uncle Patrick for the DIVORCE and that’s probably what made him the angriest.

Because Uncle Patrick, Bronx knew, was inherently and utterly _good,_ like Aslan or Harry Potter or Superman.

He was always smiling, always happy and always had time for Bronx, even when he was super busy with Important Band Stuff. He loved Bronx and Bronx loved him. It wasn’t fair that everyone was being so mean to him for things he couldn’t change.

And when Daddy was having a bad day and hadn’t moved from the couch in hours and he ignored everything that wasn’t Hemmy, Uncle Patrick would always come over the second Bronx asked him to and shake him back awake with movies and food and low mutterings of, _Peter Lewis Kingston the third, you get your dumb ass up you are not a teen anymore and you have a kid and a wife who need you and you need to get up and bathe, Jesus, you smell, Pete._

It always left Daddy blinking softly like he was just waking up as Uncle Patrick hefted him onto his feet, ( _which was kind of funny because Uncle Patrick was so little and kind of looked like a teddy bear compared to Daddy and his tiger striped darkness)_ and carried him to the bathroom before leaving, ruffling Bronx’s hair and smiling at Mommy even though she never smiled back.

_(“Thanks, Patrick,” she said. Bronx could tell she didn’t mean it._

_Uncle Patrick’s smile went away and he closed the door very quietly behind him.)_

Bronx was excited to see Uncle Patrick again after so long. The last time had been back when Mommy and Daddy were still shouting at each other, still fought but could stand to be each other’s company. Uncle Patrick had tucked him in, turned on his lullaby to drown out the noise and kissed his head. “I’m sorry, little man,” he said and his voice sounded weird and wobbly. “I wish I could do something to help.” He left a piece of paper in Bronx’s drawer “just in case” and left.

That had been two months ago.

Bronx had counted the days and marked them off with little X’s on his word calendar, frowning as they filled column after column. Daddy looked at his calendar too but not for very long.

Now Mommy had another house, away from Daddy and Bronx even though she would take him for the weekends sometimes, if she wasn’t too busy with work.

Daddy had been acting off since she left, though; he never ate and was always sleeping, unless he had to feed Bronx or help him take his baths. On good days, he would play with him for a little while and that was nice, even if he didn’t do much other than watch and make explosion noises when Bronx asked.

Bronx wasn’t very happy but he also wasn’t very _unhappy_ either so he refrained from calling Uncle Patrick.

Until Daddy slept through breakfast, and then lunch and then dinner and then breakfast again.

The door was locked and Hemmy was barking loud enough to make his head hurt so he picked up the phone thinking if there ever was a _just in case,_ it was this.

He arrived half an hour later, looking upset as he juggled groceries out of the back of his. “Bronx?” he asked around a bag he held with his teeth. “Could you get the door? Thank you.” Uncle Patrick set them down with a sigh and covered his face with his hands, looking very small in their big kitchen.”

“I’m sorry,” Bronx said and then felt like maybe now was a good time to start crying. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t know what to do!”

“Oh God, no, Bronx, stop. You did perfectly. I’m glad you called me. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.” He pulled Bronx into a tight hug, bending over to hug him properly. “I guess bravery runs in the Wentz genes,” he muttered into Bronx’s hair. They stood there for a moment, waiting for Bronx to stop sniffling.  “Alright where is he?” Uncle Patrick said, standing when he finally did.

“In his room.”

“We’ll be back down soon. Give me a bit okay, I promise everything will be alright.”

Bronx still doesn’t know what Uncle Patrick said to Daddy but it worked. It took an hour but eventually they both came downstairs. Daddy’s hair was greasy and he looked older than Bronx had ever remembered seeing him but he was smiling and standing and it was a bit like Christmas.

Uncle Patrick watched them hug, cleaning his glasses and wiping his face. “You’re going to be okay now,” he said and Bronx wasn’t too sure who he was saying that to, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Patrick,” Daddy said and his voice cracked like he was going to cry, “Patrick, Patrick, stay, just the night. Please. I don’t-I can’t-”

“Stay,” Bronx echoes, hanging from his father like a monkey. “Just one night?”

Uncle Patrick blinked and then smiled, putting his glasses back on. “As if I could say no to you two,” he teased.

Daddy laughed as Patrick stole Bronx from him, tossed him up high and then caught him, pretending to chew on the top of his head. “Ahh!” he fakes screaming as Uncle Patrick growled into his cheek.

“Om nom nom,” he said and then to Daddy, “I meant every word, Wentz.”

“I know, Patrick,” Daddy said, sounding happier than he had been for a long, long, time. “I know.” 


End file.
